you hold me close inside the slaughter / you look so much better without that shit in your hair

(Slightly Nsfw content warning.)

We've been walking on the beach.

He says something. I say something back. He laughs. I punch him. Hard. He rears back, cursing, and then launches himself at me. 

I leave him with a split lip and he wraps his hands around my throat. We’re grinning, madly. Blood drips from his lip to my cheek bone. 

He’s hard. He ruts into the sharp just of my hip, too much friction to feel good. He moans anyway. 

I cough, buck my hips back, rough and with the intention to hurt. "Disgusting."

Fingers squeezing tighter, leaves bruises that won't fade for weeks, He bares his teeth. "Yeah."

We’re on a beach and there are fingerprints all over me.

Out in the open for everyone to see, but no one does. I scratch open weeping cuts down his arms, his face, his back; wrap my knees around his ribcage, wanting to break his bones. He is biting my neck, shoulders, chest, digs bloody imprints of his teeth in the skin. Smiles, lips red rimmed. I scowl and try to hook my finger in his eye. 

It finishes, snarling; a mess of sticky white over our stomachs. We’re both sore, rubbed raw, sensitive flesh abraded by half undone zippers and too dry palms. We do not kiss, tear at each other's mouths with teeth and tongues and built up resentment.

I flip us over, detaching his hands from my throat, the rush of air disorienting, legs still weak from coming, but somehow I manage to get the taller man on his back. I suck in a deep breath of bitter sea air, acrid with fish guts and rotting seaweed and black smog from boats. Slam my left fist in his jaw, feel his teeth clack together. Slam my right fist into his cheek bone, split open the delicate skin on my knuckles. 

He shouts, enraged and resonating. Reaches up with arms too strong to be natural, and hauls me off his chest, sends me hard into the sand. I scramble to my feet, leg giving out and I land rough on one knee. I bit my lip, blood running fast and thick down my chin.

There are black veins in his eyes, but he's still him, is still laughing and still pissed right the fuck off.

Neither of us remember what started the fight. 

A horn blows, booming and vibrating in our bones. The sun has already set, the sky dark and thunderous clouds looming over the moon. The street lamps cast sickly pissy yellow light that doesn't reach us. We rush each other and fall into the sand again, He lands hard on his shoulder, jarring it.

But I’m weaker and soon enough he has me pinned again, hands pulling my hair and forcing my nose in the sand. Something cracks. I lash out with my good leg, catch him on his thigh, sends his knee out from under him and back into the sand right next to me. 

We don't move.

We’re laying on the beach.